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“I didn’t say it doesn’t bother me, instinctually,” Marly sighed. “It was the nightmare. Cade won’t stay away when one of them has the nightmare. He knew you were with Brock. I knew something would happen.”
Sarah’s heart beat sluggishly in her breast. Panic threatened to engulf her. A panic born of her own confusion, her own conflicting emotions. None of this made sense to her, especially her own arousal.
“How much has Brock told you about this?” Marly couldn’t meet her eyes now.
Marly wasn’t ashamed, she wasn’t frightened, but Sarah could tell she was uncertain. That uncertainty made her vulnerable and Marly August wasn’t a woman noted for vulnerability. Sassiness, daring, even a measure of pride, but not vulnerability.
“I would like to think I know everything,” Sarah sighed. “If I don’t by now, I’m going to be pissed later.”
Sarah knew that more would likely be too much.
“Their lifestyle?” Marly’s eyes met hers fully now. Sarah saw the incredible strength it was taking for her to face Sarah’s knowledge head on.
Sarah lowered her eyes, watching her fingers play nervously through the water. She shrugged.
“I know about the lifestyle and the part you play in it. I know Brock refuses to stop.” Sarah remembered his flash of pain when he asked her not to make him. As though she had control of what he did.
“Do you know why?” There was the edge of pain. But it was rife with confusion, with sadness.
Sarah raised her gaze until she met Marly’s once again.
“Cade hasn’t told you?” she asked, checking the yard again to make certain there were no ears to overhear their conversation.
“He won’t tell me, Sarah. And I have to know. Whatever’s going on is killing the only man I’ve ever loved and I can’t stand it anymore.” Despair edged her words, and filled her eyes. “The attack the other night and what happened outside last night, has only made him worse. “
Sarah sighed roughly. “I need a drink.”
Dammit, she didn’t need this. She moved from the foam pad, wading through the waist deep water to the wide set of steps that led to the concrete patio. There, sitting in icy splendor beneath the table umbrella was the pitcher of southern tea she had made early. Sweet, with an edge of whisky, it was cre
ated to calm even the worst of maidenly jitters. She was getting those a lot lately.
Marly followed her, watching her, needing something Sarah wasn’t certain was her place to give. Pouring two glasses of the tea, Sarah sat down in one of the cushioned chairs, shaded by the umbrella above. Marly was only seconds later joining her.
“Sarah. I know these men,” Marly whispered. “They’re good men. Strong, honorable men. What they need from the women they love isn’t natural. It’s not painful, it’s filled with love, and often a beauty you would never expect, but it leaves whatever is broken in them unmended. I want Cade whole. I need him healed.”
“I haven’t agreed to what they want.” She couldn’t look Marly in the eye. She hadn’t agreed, but she knew the pressure was on. She wasn’t certain how long she could resist, as long as she was in this house.
“You will.” Marly smiled, showing no jealousy, no remorse. “They’re exceptional men, Sarah. But I can’t accept it until I know why. “
And Cade obviously didn’t want her to know. This placed Sarah in a position of knowing, of seeing Marly’s pain, her inability to understand in the face of him touching another woman. It was a touch Sarah had been unable to deny. Why should she deny this woman understanding in return?
“Cade acts like a dangerous man, Marly.” Sarah breathed roughly. “I’m not certain if I want to be the one to tell you anything.”
“He won’t hurt you,” Marly promised. “I swear, Sarah. Please, just tell me.”
Sarah gazed into those wide, pleading eyes. Marly was younger than she by a few years. Two perhaps. Younger, but already accepting more than Sarah could have believed possible.
“Men are assholes,” she muttered.
Marly’s return smile was bitter, accepting.
“I know they were abused. Somehow. I know something terrible happened, Sarah. But none of them will tell me what. I need to know what happened.” Marly leaned close, staring at Sarah in determination.
Sarah took a long drink, tasting the liquor in her drink and praying for courage. Where was Brock and his sexual itch when she needed the distraction? Oh no, he had to go out and play cowboy.
She set her glass on the table, breathing deeply.
“I don’t know specifics,” she told Marly, remembering the pain, the haunting echo of agony reflecting from Brock that night. “I know it was a friend of their father. Mr. August sent them away when they were young, teenagers. The man chained them, abused them.” She swallowed tightly past her own pain. “He forced them to abuse each other. From what Brock said, Cade took the worst of it, to spare his brothers.”
